


Silly Love Songs

by athousandwinds



Category: Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs - sometimes Cosmo's even one of 'em.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silly Love Songs

It's not that Cosmo grudges them a single thing – he doesn't. He _likes_ seeing Don go goofy over Kathy, honest to golly, and Kathy's a peach, specially when she grins up at Don like he's the only guy in the world for her. He's got a swell job, too, banging out love songs in major scales for them. There's absolutely no reason why Cosmo should end up in a gin mill of an evening, drinking coffin varnish. So he's pretending he's not here, because if he pretends hard enough it might come true. Hey, works for some people.

"So," says Don, because he's gotta spoil Cosmo's fantasy, "what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

It's not his best, and Cosmo says so. "It's not your best."

"Everyone's a critic, nowadays." Don sighs gustily. "I didn't think we were working this crowd, Cosmo, are we?"

"_I_," and Cosmo emphasises the _I_, "am here for a drink, fella."

"Come home and have a drink. What do you want with this joint?"

Cosmo turns up his nose and says, "I like the ambience," just before some big six comes crashing headfirst into their table. Cosmo's life is a comedy, even when he isn't writing one. Don sniggers at him.

"Come on home," he says when he's done mocking Cosmo's personal Greek tragedy. "You can have all the gin we got. Kathy even laid down some extra tonic water today, just for you."

Cosmo considers. Mother's milk in the privacy of Don and Kathy's own home sounds good, two glasses into the evening, and definitely less likely to land him in the birdcage. On the downside, he's less likely to catch some dame's eye. Or a sailor, he's not picky. But the chances were slim anyway, he's more likely to catch a whiff of sex by sleeping on Don and Kathy's sofa. The Lockwoods' sofa. Goodness, Mr Brown.

"Copacetic," he says, grinning like he means it.

When they get back, Kathy's broken out not only the gin, but the whiskey and the vodka _and_ the mixers, which seems like overkill until she smiles at him and says, "I thought we could have a private party tonight."

Cosmo's mouth goes dry, but that's just because he's downed two G&amp;Ts in a quarter hour.

Kathy says no more about it, but her hips sway as she stirs him a White Lady. Cosmo watches her, pretty in pink, before he remembers Don's there. But Don's only looking at him, no harm done.

By ten o'clock, they're all on the sofa, Cosmo in the middle. You'd think the newlyweds would want to cuddle, which is why he hasn't rolled around here before. It's still their honeymoon, for Pete's sake. They seem to be cuddling each other by proxy, which is just fine with Cosmo's one-eyed trouser snake, but not so much with _him_.

"Hey, kids," he says, his voice cracking a little. He can't hear any slurring, which is about right. He could always hold his drink better than Don, but Kathy puts away those whiskey sours like a professional. He's about to try and slide out from underneath them, claiming the bathroom (five minutes of peace and quiet to not make an idiot of himself), but Kathy shifts against him, her breasts full and soft against his arm, and looks up through heavy eyelashes.

"You okay, Cosmo?" she asks, warm with possibility.

"Yeah, Cosmo," says Don, and Cosmo forgets what he was going to say because Don's hand is on his thigh, stroking slow and firm. "You okay?"

"I, well, um," he says, at loss for words for the first time ever, and Kathy is undoing the buttons on his trousers. Don gives him three seconds to try and spit something out and then he kisses him. Don's tongue in his mouth relieves Cosmo of the urge to try and explain the situation: either it's a dream or Cosmo's going mad. Well, that's a relief.

Kathy's in his lap and she's sliding her dress up her legs – would you look at that, she's not wearing underwear. Cosmo's glad he didn't know that at eight o'clock, or he wouldn't have been his normal witty self all evening. His dick's sticking out like Casper Milquetoast in a brothel and it's so embarrassing that he's glad for more than one reason when Kathy sits right down on it.

"Ngh," he says, because his reputation as a funny man came from somewhere and that includes slapstick, and Kathy moans, clenching round him and clutching his shoulders like she's about to fall.

"Hey," says Don, whose clothes are on the floor along with Cosmo's shirt and hey, his undershirt, he hadn't even noticed that one. Don's been sucking on his neck for the past five minutes.

"Cosmo," says Kathy, her voice tense and squeezing his dick like she's going to die if she doesn't come right this second. Cosmo kisses her, slipping her his tongue and sliding his hand in between them to rub at her clit, wet and glistening. She grips him hard and goes rigid for a split second. "Oh, _goodness_."

"Gosh," says Cosmo sympathetically, and strokes her hip as she shudders on his dick. A moment later Kathy takes a deep breath and pulls him down to lie on top of her, arse in the air.

"Keep going," she whispers, and jerks with every thrust.

Cosmo's just got her going again, moaning and shivering underneath him, when Don ambles back in, naked as the day he was born and his Roman soldier standing to attention.

"Told you we should've put it under the coffee table just in case," he says to Kathy and Kathy laughs, though it's uneven, what with Cosmo still working his night job inside her.

"What – ?" asks Cosmo and almost looks over his shoulder to see, but Kathy distracts him with a kiss. He feels it, instead, Don's finger and nearly comes on the spot. Don's careful with him, gentle, patting him to make sure he's all right until Cosmo grinds back against him and says, in as high-pitched a voice he can do when his dick's this hard, "Honey, I'm scared. It's so _big_!"

"Call yourself a friend," says Don.

"Stop futzing around, Don."

So Don does, and the next thing Cosmo feels is the blunt head of Don's dick pushing in. The weight throws him forward into Kathy, who actually whimpers and the three of them rock back and forth in a haze of nigh-orgasmic pleasure. Don shoots first, slamming Cosmo and Kathy against the couch one more time and Cosmo spurts, too. He'd meant to pull out, but Kathy doesn't seem to mind. She pulls the remains of her dress off and curls up on Cosmo's right. Don's already half-asleep in Cosmo's sticky lap.

"We should move to the bed," Kathy says, yawning. Don suddenly perks up.

"Right," says Cosmo, going cold. "I'll just – "

"You're coming with us," says Kathy, and licks his ear. Don nuzzles his dick.

Cosmo starts composing love songs in his head.


End file.
